Forgive Us Our Trespasses
by Kyra Rivers
Summary: In the aftermath of Kyoto, Tsuzuki isn't the only one with fears. (prequel to “Lead Not Into Temptation”)


_**Title:** Forgive Us Our Trespasses_

_**Summary:** In the aftermath of Kyoto, Tsuzuki isn't the only one with fears. (prequel to "Lead Not Into Temptation")_

_**Notes:** As it says in the summary, this story is a prequel to my story **Lead Not Into Temptation** kind of. It's not necessary for you to have read either before the other, and really, this works as a stand alone fanfic as well. It's mainly me thinking that Hisoka and Tsuzuki deserved more of a resolution after the Kyoto arc, and then noting that Tsuzuki was already awake when Tatsumi was talking with him._

_And Fanfiction dot Net does not allow dashes and that makes me SAD, because I use dashes all the time, and now the Fanfiction dot Net version of this fanfic is full of ellipses. I'm sorry._

_**Warnings:** Talk of suicide. TsuzukixHisoka vibes, but nothing blatant._

_**Disclaimer:** Once upon a time, there was a girl named Kyra. And she did not own Yami no Matsuei, which made her very sad. She instead decided to write fanfiction so she could pretend she did own the characters for a little bit. But when it was all over, she had to give them back. And she cried. The End._

* * *

**Forgive Us Our Trespasses**

When Tsuzuki woke up, he could feel the sunlight streaming from the window onto his cheek. It was very quiet, where ever he was, but Tsuzuki figured he hadn't died. Or rather, he was still dead, but hadn't passed on. He didn't think there were cool sheets and warm sunlight in Hell.

When he opened his eyes, he saw Hisoka standing by the window, staring at him.

"Good morning," Tsuzuki said instinctively, before Hisoka could say anything. Hisoka's face was carefully blank, Tsuzuki noticed; he hadn't seen such a carefully constructed mask of apathy since Hisoka had first arrived. It took a great deal of effort to look so calm.

"Mm," was Hisoka's response. He pushed off from the window sill, where he had been leaning, and walked toward the set of beds. He sat down on the side of his bed, his feet hooked on the edge of the metal frame and knees up by his face. He rested his arms on his knees and his chin on his arms, and Tsuzuki was struck by how small Hisoka was. How small he looked, curled into a ball and perched on the mattress.

He was giving Tsuzuki a Look. Not one that Tsuzuki could identify, because this was not one of Hisoka's usual Looks, but a Look nonetheless.

Tsuzuki wasn't sure how to deal with it all.

He could remember what happened in hazy snapshots. One moment he was on a hard table, staring up at a ceiling and feeling a sharp knife near him; then he was thrusting upward, and there was blood and Muraki screamed; then Touda, and fire everywhere; then Hisoka.

Then Hisoka, who was crying though his tears kept evaporating in the heat. Hisoka who screamed at him to get up, they had to go, hurry! Hisoka who threw himself at Tsuzuki when he refused, who hugged him and sobbed without tears into his shoulder. Hisoka who was more open than Tsuzuki had ever seen him, who had pleaded with Tsuzuki to stay.

"How are you feeling?"

The Look was gone, because Hisoka wasn't looking at him anymore. He was staring at the window instead. The sunlight reflected on his face and hair, highlighting the green and gold. It was dazzling how pretty Hisoka was sometimes, especially when he clearly didn't mean to be.

"I'm," Tsuzuki began.

"Don't say 'fine,'" Hisoka added, still watching the window with what seemed like a focused effort. He continued, "You say 'fine' and I'll know you're lying. You're not fine."

Tsuzuki frowned. "I'm _better_," he said instead, almost petulantly.

Hisoka turned his head and stared at Tsuzuki, his gaze penetrating and cool. He didn't say anything for a moment, waiting for Tsuzuki to get the full effect of his glare, which was unnerving and made Tsuzuki shift uncomfortably.

"You're not better," Hisoka said simply. "You're scared and lonely and guilty and hurt. And that's just the beginning."

And Tsuzuki didn't know what to say to this, because how could he argue with Hisoka when Hisoka was _right_ and Hisoka _knew_ he was right? Tsuzuki had never had a partner who knew him this well. Even Tatsumi, who had a surprising amount of compassion for someone so focused, had never known him well enough to tell him how he felt. Of course, Hisoka did have a distinct advantage.

"Am I projecting that loudly, 'Soka-chan?" Tsuzuki asked, adding the suffix with a half-hearted effort to lighten the mood. He looked away from Hisoka and gazed out the window. A bird was perched on a branch just outside, preening.

"No," Hisoka replied. "You're hardly projecting at all." There was a pause, and then, "But you were."

"When I was asleep?"

"When you called Touda," Hisoka corrected. "Sleep helps. It doesn't heal."

Tsuzuki didn't reply for a long while, and he thought that Hisoka would get bored soon and leave him be. But Hisoka didn't move, except to fidget with the hem of his t-shirt nervously. Tsuzuki didn't understand that; why should Hisoka be nervous? He hadn't tried to kill himself. No, that was Tsuzuki's role in life. He was the one who crumpled under pressure, who gave in and couldn't deal with how life how death how he _just couldn't stop_ and

"I..."

Hisoka was saying something, but his face was half-tucked into his arms and Tsuzuki could hardly hear him.

"What?"

"I'm selfish," Hisoka said.

"What?" Tsuzuki was confused.

Hisoka hesitated, chewing anxiously on his lower lip, clearly fretting about something. He looked too pale, sitting there; his eyes stood out stark green on his wan face. He seemed upset, and Tsuzuki immediately felt another pang of guilt; this was _his_ fault, his fault for not _thinking_ and just calling down Touda without remembering that Hisoka would worry and

"No!" Hisoka protested. Tsuzuki blinked and Hisoka explained, "You're projecting now. And it's not your fault. No... no, that's not..." He took a breath and looked away, staring at the floor as if to memorize the tile pattern. "I... when I... I just couldn't let you die, even though you were exhausted and I _knew_ that, but I just _couldn't_. And I... I don't..."

Tsuzuki wasn't sure what to say, or if he should interrupt at all; a protest was on the tip of his tongue, because whatever Hisoka was feeling guilty about, it wasn't deserved, but Hisoka's eyes were shimmering with tears, and Tsuzuki was frozen at the sight of them. Had he made Hisoka cry again?

"And I'm... I... I couldn't let you go," Hisoka was saying, not crying but nearly. "Tatsumi-san was ready to, Watari-san was ready to... but I wasn't. I'm selfish. And now you're still hurting because I'm selfish."

"You're not selfish," protested Tsuzuki, startled at the very thought. "You... Hisoka... "

"I'm selfish and I couldn't let you die like you wanted to because of that!" Hisoka continued, turning to look at Tsuzuki now. He blinked a few times, rapidly, trying to stop the tears from welling up in his eyes. After a few tries at this, he gave up and wiped his face with the back of his arm, sniffing irritably. "I... I couldn't... just give you up like that. Even though you wanted to go."

Tsuzuki didn't know what to say to that.

He had wanted to leave. He had wanted Touda to come down and destroy him with the black fire; he could still feel the heat of it burning on his skin, sparking and sizzling and leaving him gasping for air. At that moment, Tsuzuki had wanted nothing more than to die, to feel this false life that Enma had granted him slip away and let him succumb to the numbness of nonexistence.

But then Hisoka came, and death wasn't the most important thing anymore.

Because Hisoka was there with him, surrounded by fire and death, and Tsuzuki didn't _want_ him there. Not then. Not with the fire raging around and threatening to swallow everyone up in an instant. From the first instant Tsuzuki heard Hisoka's voice screaming his name desperately, he felt a surge of protective instincts rushing through him, insisting that he _get Hisoka out of there_.

And he denied them. He had wanted to die more than anything, wanted to cast away the shell of life and leave to finally, _finally_ be at peace.

Until Hisoka offered him something better than peace, and Tsuzuki realized that he was more than capable of living just for Hisoka.

"I don't want to go anywhere," Tsuzuki said quietly, after realizing that if he continued to be silent, Hisoka would probably think he was angry. Hisoka glanced up at him, tentatively, his fingers tightly gripping his elbows.

Tsuzuki continued, "I don't. You gave me a reason to stay and I want to."

"But you," Hisoka began, then stopped. He was chewing on his lower lip again. He tried again, "You were going to..."

"I don't know what I was thinking, 'Soka-chan," Tsuzuki said. "Or I do, but my decision to stay was mine. You just gave me good enough incentive."

There was a moment after that where Tsuzuki was worried that Hisoka was going to argue more, forcing the question until he got a more concrete answer. And Tsuzuki didn't want to talk about Kyoto, not now, not so soon after the pain and the fire and the confessions. Hisoka wasn't stupid, thankfully, and he seemed to realize that.

Though Tsuzuki hadn't expected Hisoka to get up and wrap him in a tight hug, tucking his face into Tsuzuki's shoulder as he had done the night before. He still smelled like smoke. And he fit so nicely into Tsuzuki's arms that Tsuzuki never wanted to let him go. Tsuzuki hugged him back, firmly, relishing in the comfort that Hisoka offered so easily.

His shoulder was a little damp. Hisoka was crying.

"Don't ever scare me like that again, Tsuzuki," Hisoka whispered into his shoulder. "Please don't."

Tsuzuki could not smile, but he tried. It came out lukewarm, and so he gave up, focusing instead on Hisoka's arms around his neck, on Hisoka's face tucked into his shoulder, on Hisoka's whispered pleads. On the fact that Hisoka had asked Tsuzuki to live for him, which meant that Hisoka would always be there.

Hisoka would never leave him. He had promised.

And that meant so much it hurt.

"I'll try not to," Tsuzuki whispered back, feeling a hot tear slip down his own cheek. "I'll try."


End file.
